On the Wall
by eggs on Thursday
Summary: The sirens of lore lured men to their deaths with dulcet song and honeyed voices. Mello can't sing to save his life, so he'll make do.
1. Chapter 1

A redhead wearing a striped shirt and goggles entered a corner drugstore at three 'o clock, sharp.

The same man stumbled outside with a bewildered expression twenty seconds later.

A furious blond followed him about two seconds later.

"NEAR, YOU BASTARD! DON'T FUCK WITH MY MIND!"


	2. Chapter 2

"...Near? Who's-"

The blond snatched up a generous fistful of ninety-nine percent cotton shirt. The confused owner of the shirt cringed when the man's wild blue gaze met his.

"Hi, I'm Matt, and happen to know nothing about any mind-fucking prepositions. _Please_ let me go, thanks in advance."

His captor blinked. Blinked again. He stared into Matt's verdant eyes, watched Matt stare back, then exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing Matt in the process.

"Oh, fuck. You've got to be kidding me."

The psychopath laughed hysterically.

Matt quietly inched away, then broke into a sprint.


	3. Chapter 3

Mello strolled down the sidewalk, still shaking with repressed mirth. Of course, few stared.

They were figments of his imagination, after all. He was at least sane enough to not laugh at himself.

Or _in_sane, but he'd had enough of arguing that out with himself.

There was a good portion of the crowd watching him with wary eyes, though. It scared him, so he grabbed one of the goggling passerby and flung him into a wall. The balding man yelped and collided with the rust-bright brick. An unsettlingly great number of pedestrians detached themselves from the flow of traffic to help the unlucky worker.

The blond then smacked his head against the apartment building. Unexpectedly, it hurt.

"Oww. Damn, he's _good_. I could probably make myself bleed here."

Several people had gathered around their fallen comrade. Many had cell phones out and were staring quite rudely.

Mello cackled and absorbed the imagination, altering the devices into Styrofoam cups with strings hanging limply from the bottom. The horrified citizens gaped at their renovated Blackberries.

"Flies," he warned staidly, before resuming his idle walk, keeping an eye out for-

"That building. Thank God; I've been wandering around for half an hour."

His boots clicked up the rusty staircase, and he noted with detached interest the way its paint peeled and scattered into the dingy ground. These details wouldn't deter him. He would win.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I swear on my laptop that something important will happen soon. Heck, things might even start to make sense, too.

Not promising that one, though.

* * *

With half an arm through the door, Mello was overcome by a rare moment of uneasiness.

He swallowed and shifted uncomfortably until the sensation crawled back to the hellish depths it came from.

He might be breaking his promise, but L would understand. If he didn't, well, L was as good as dead anyway. His opinion didn't matter anymore.

Mello winced at his thoughts, but they continued.

What worried him was what had happened to L. It could be avoided by-

Nothing. Mello didn't know what the hell Matt was thinking. Meaning, essentially, he was fucked over.

He could be careful. If he was careful, he'd be fine. Better than fine. He'd have a devoted mind to reassure him that he was beautiful, for eighty sweet days. Maybe more, if Matt had eaten something before bed-

The kid's a fucking twig. This is too dangerous, and it's wrong-

-for Matt. Does the lion pity the gazelle?

Mello slipped through the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Matt was quietly toweling a blue dish when his visitor burst in through the front door, shattering a corner of his terracotta plant pot and a bit more than a corner of his carefully cultivated sanity.

"MATT! Oh, god, it's been so long! I could, like, barely find this place! Oh, sorry about the jar thing! I bet I can glue it together, you know, with some of that really strong stuff you can get at the hardware sto-"

"Uh, hate to interrupt, but do I know you?"

"What? You don't remember me? Natalie?"

"I think I would remember a girl like you... yep, pretty sure I'd remember a girl like you."

"Come on, Matty! We were practically BFFs before! You REALLY don't remember?"

Matt frowned and gave her a blank stare.

"Sorry, but I honestly don't know you. Maybe you're looking for some _other_ person?"

"No! C'mon, remember the time Mr. _River_ threatened to like, lock you, like, _out of the class_, 'cause you didn't turn in any _work_?"

"...huh. It's all coming back to me, now."

The petite intruder beamed. "Wanna go out for lunch? We can catch up and talk and stuff! Maybe _I can_ even _help you_ with some of your stuff so Mr. River doesn't claw your throat out!""

"Er, I just had lunch, and I still _don't know who you are_-"

"Oh, well, I know this adorable little coffee shop! The cutest thing, and it's usually pretty empty, too..."

"Uhh, _I'm not really in the mood for caffeine_, but thanks for the offer, _complete stranger-_"

"Great! Let's go!"

"But-"

She seized the innocent Matt by his striped arm, making him wonder what cruel god he had offended by doing the dishes.

-

Mello groaned into an empty apartment room before doing an about face out to tail his quarry, following Matt and the interloper's trail intently.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm curious. What do you guys think the story title means?

* * *

Halfway down Herald's Avenue, they disappeared.

"Damn that to fucking hell," seethed Mello.

A crippled Coke can became the subject of his fury all the way back to the beginning of the street, left to the intersection between Grace Road and Honor Way, and through a disturbingly bloody alleyway. Finally, at the stairway to Matt's apartment room, the tired man fed the bottle to a throng of screeching, stinking tires.

What was he going to do?

He would eat. Then he'd pick apart each of his problems with a pair of particularly sharp tweezers.

Knocking off the metal-plated lock just for the heck of it, Mello entered Matt's territory and headed across the cheap carpet to the glorious sanctuary of all things mostly edible.

He peered inside the fridge, sucking on a fork absently.

Cheeseburger. Okay.

Fried chicken. Okay.

Pizza. Okay.

Chinese. Okay.

Triple chocolate cake? Hell, yes.

Well, Matt obviously watched what he ate.

Removing his coronary of choice, the chocoholic downed his meal with a box of apple juice discovered between a ketchup container and a jar of pickles.

He felt better already. Cocoa cures all.


	7. Chapter 7

Matt's couch made a pretty decent meditation ground.

Not that Mello was surprised in any way. After all, the guy had proved to be a marvel beyond comprehension, so he figured a little bit of that had probably rubbed off on the cream cushions.

Alright, time to think the way L taught him. What was the problem?

Matt.

_Be a bit more detailed_.

Matt was unbelievably difficult to read and made the most realistic world he'd ever seen. Probably more so than Near. And he was just a visitor...

_I think Mello-kun should recall what recently happened to me._

"I remember. But I'm stronger, I know..."

_No, giving in proves you wrong-_

"No! That point isn't debatable anymore! He's already here, so I need to figure out how to snare him! In that respect, I'm going to be stronger!"

_Mello-kun._

"You are dead. In a world of scruples, you'd be crowned king, wouldn't you? But you're even deader than most of us in a world of dreams and vanity, and _I need this mirror_. I've abstained for long enough. Longer than you, as you know."

Mello laughed when his mentor finally shut his all-knowing mouth, then slid backwards into the nice-smelling couch. "Do you miss your unrequited love, L? I know I do. He was smart for a pretty-boy."

_Mello, send Matt back for your sake, if nothing else._

"I'd rather not spend eternity wherever the hell you are for doing that. And even if I can't read him, I'll just test him to find out what he likes. So long as Near keeps his nose out, I'll have my way with Matt."

L was silent, so Mello cracked his joints one by one to stain the blank space with sound.


	8. Chapter 8

Alright, let's do this. Thanks to x-Malicious-Me-x, Mezzanotte Nera, and SheOfOrange. Mezzanotte Nera especially, since she reviewed almost EVERY GODFORSAKEN CHAPTER. That's pretty cool.

And thanks to whoever has read this, just 'cause. Too bad I don't know your name. I guess I can say this: Thanks to people from the US, Canada, UK, France, Sweden, Egypt, Romania, Russia, Australia, Puerto Rico, Mexico, Peru, Bulgaria, New Zealand, Belgium, Germany, Japan, Colombia, Estonia, and Singapore. Whew.

...you don't know I'm typing this just to make up for a filler-ish chapter, right?

* * *

After lounging around for a few more minutes, Mello went next door.

He entered the room conveniently owned by one of his and called, "Grandma! I'm back!"

A young woman cloaked in denim and flour came out of the kitchen holding a pan layered with chocolate.

He smirked and said "Aww. I ate at Matt's house, Granny. Surely you could tell." He chuckled and continued, "I think you need a makeover. Time to go for that matronly look everybody's raving about in magazines."

With a wave of his hand purely for dramatic effect, he let folds of skin droop and slide and bleached her mahogany locks. Her shoulders and chest expanded so she appeared quite the formidable grandmother.

As a second thought, he made her clothing a garish pink to match the walls of the kitchen.

"You look pretty tough, now- you can be called Brunhilda. Now, I'm gonna go meet our neighbor. Maybe even invite him over for dinner! So, get some food on the table." Mello laughed and handed his 'grandmother' a lipstick-sheen apron to complete her ensemble.

"Be back by seven or your food will get cold," she told him sternly, fixing her blank brown eyes on him.

"I promise, Grandmother."

His laughter echoed down the hallway.


	9. Chapter 9

Ohh, yes! I have a new reader from Denmark! I also have a new reviewer, Nikkiacatmeki!

* * *

Mello waited impatiently beside a wilting plant that seemed to dislike his company.

The fern was stripped of its leaves ten minutes before Matt arrived via a sluggish march up the clanging stairwell. The vandal perked up and greeted the wearied redhead the way he was famous for.

"Hello, Matt! I've been waiting for a while for you to get back! I'm Mello, staying with my grandma for a while, next door, you know her?"

Matt looked as though he wished the goggles hooding his eyes were glasses so he could tilt his head forward and slide them down his nose in disbelief. Instead, he picked at the strap uncomfortably and mumbled, "Nice to meet you, Mello, progeny of the progeny of....

"Bruhilda, but you can call her Missus Dahlia, Hillary, or Grammy, if you bake her some cookies."

"Right. Sorry for being rude, but I've had a long day. Maybe tomorrow we could talk or something..."

"Oh. Why don't you come over for dinner, so you don't have to go through all the trouble of making your own?"

"Well, I just had something in a cafe-"

"Great! See you at...six?"

Matt nearly made the mistake of disagreeing. Instead he muttered an affirmative resignedly.

Mello beamed and pretended not to notice when he shut the door rather violently and screamed.

Though, he could have sworn he heard crimson hair being ripped out.

Shrugging, he tottered through the door to Brunhilda's apartment, letting his five-year-old cherub appearance slide in favor of his real form.

His skin itched all over. Apparently, he didn't channel innocent cub too well.


	10. Chapter 10

After a bit of thinking, I decided to significantly shorten the story and cut out a few unnecessary things. We're maybe halfway through, more or less...

New people from Brazil and South Africa. Yess!

* * *

Matt seemed a bit pale to him. And oddly enough, a look of resolution hardened his earnest features as he beckoned Mello over.

...could Near have?

"Mello," he intoned gravely, searching for something- a crack in his camouflage? Deceit in his cornflower eyes?

"Matt," he chirped back, wincing inwardly at the falsetto.

"Drop it," he responded sharply. Mello stared back in shock.

Finally, he continued. "Promise me," he said, sounding strained. "Don't kill yourself. I'd rather not suffer eternity in that place only to have you come back."

Then, he drew his arm back in a wide arc, curling his index finger and thumb together. His nails headed in a straight line for Mello's arm-

"MELLO! DIE WHILE DREAMING!"

Keratin dug into his limb rather painfully moments after the newcomer yelled out her strange advice. Matt turned to face the offending female as she turned to retreat.

"He didn't know!?"

"No, Matty, but Misa knows it will be for the best!"

"Goddammit, no, it won't! Near sent you, didn't he?"

"No, Misa came because she wants Matty to be happy."

"Oh, god... MEL! DON'T, PLEASE! Oh, god..."

The blond clutching his wrist tried to respond.


	11. Chapter 11

I awoke in quite an uncomfortable state.

My throat was devoid of moisture. My head pounded. My arm hurt like hell. I was starving.

Naturally, I attempted to get up, before realizing with a jolt that I would forget everything. My breath caught and I choked. For a few minutes, I laid supine, hacking and gasping.

The small table beside my bed seemed to be littered with everything but paper and pens. My coughing and lack of orientation didn't help at all, but I'd be damned before I forgot about Matt.

Finally, my hands happened upon a receipt and a stunted pencil. Everything I knew about the world was scribbled over last week's groceries and blurry coupons at a feverish pace.

By no standards am I the best. Maybe I think I can delude myself or others into thinking that I could be by repeating it over and over and over, until people(I) associate 'Mello' with 'winner'.

By no standards am I the best, but I try for it, with soul, body, and mind- if I devote myself to something, I will always come a few impossible inches short. I just need a tug from another great mind, and I will achieve.

As I reviewed everything I had written about the place I'd dubbed 'Anthemoessa', one name became clear to me.

Light Yagami. He'd help me, if I could find him. His situation was mine, if he cared for...L as much as I thought he did.

Pausing only to take sips of water, I made a gratuitous use of Google, until hunger drove me away to the pantry. All memory of the...dream? had slipped soundlessly out of my mind, save the crumpled paper in my hand.


	12. Chapter 12

Merry Christmas!

* * *

I felt reasonably frustrated.

There was no mention of any Light Yagami anywhere- not in America, not in Japan, not anywhere in the world. He wasn't dead, at least, or I would have found an obituary.

Surely a man like him would be well-known. After reviewing my notes(which I had copied into five notebooks and my laptop), it seemed like Yagami was thrillingly intelligent, attractive, and somewhat conceited. Perfect for the media, no doubt.

The only reasonable conclusion was that he was involved in something illegal.

I'd long ago cut off ties with the Mafia.

It already bit at me that one of them might have killed Matt. True, there wasn't a whole lot I could have done thirty years ago, but I felt just as slimy for working with them.

I had to figure this out, though. It wouldn't deter me.

"Rod speaking."

"This is Mello."

"...Mello?"

I wanted to laugh. Even after a year, my name held the same sway that it used to. He was unbelieving, yet unwilling to voice that just in case it _was_ the Devil.

Power. Power was why I stayed in the mob for so long. I'm not the best, but I'm certainly enough to control them. It was _fun_.

"Make no mistake. I need information concerning a man named Light Yagami."

"He's a doctor," Ross immediately answered.

"The mob's private doctor?" I was surprised.

"No. We recently discovered him. He says he helps anybody that needs it, without asking any questions. He's a valuable doctor. We're protecting him, but he doesn't know it."

"Mm. Schedule an appointment for me under 'Michael Keeling' for tomorrow, three in the afternoon. Where is his office?"

"Lane's Avenue. Can't miss it. Are...are you coming back to the mob?"

I snorted. "No, so don't bother trying to train those idiot men of yours."


	13. Chapter 13

AGGGH SO LONG. And there's a horrible block of rambling near the end.

* * *

Dr. Yagami's modest clinic was sandwiched between a beauty parlor and a quaint cafe. It was a sunny day, and people ambled around in droves, tilting their ice cream cones just so sticky beads of rocky road would coat their shirts. Luckily, I'd had the foresight to leave the leather at home and wear khakis and a shirt.

Striped, by the way.

A bell announced my arrival when I pushed open the glass door. Light was waiting in one of the sofas placed in the corner of the room, chatting with a dark-haired girl. As soon as he saw me, he got up.

As soon as he recognized me, his eyes widened.

"Michael," he said amiably, "I didn't know you were in this part of town, or I would have stopped by."

I laughed and answered, "I myself had no idea I'd be here, actually. I did have a slight infection on my burn, but I think I've gotten over it. Still, would you like to go out for lunch?"

"Of course. Sayu, can you watch for Ms. Shea? Call me if she arrives."

"Sure thing, Light!"

He discarded his jacket and followed me outside. "Where should we go?"

"To my apartment, I think," was my suggestion.

We walked silently to my room. When I shut the door, he burst into a flurry of questions.

"How did you get here? I thought you were one of them... is it temporary, or will you-"

"Can it for a second, Origami. I'll explain myself. And before you ask, no, L will not pop out of the sky."

His shoulders sagged slightly, and for once, I could relate.

"Listen. I thought I was one of them, but I guess Near had me fooled... anyhow, this is what I think happened. Near took me to- I'm calling it Anthemoessa, okay?"

He quirked an eyebrow, but motioned for me to continue.

"Near took me to Anthemoessa around the end of your stay, which is why we met. He had me believe I was one of them, can't imagine why, and at the time I hadn't met Matt-"

"Matt?"

"My, uh, you know. My L."

"Oh."

"I guess Near wanted Matt to have me or something, so he dragged me in. Matt obviously wouldn't. He's too nice. Well, Light Bulb? Say something."

He frowned and muttered, "Don't call me Light Bulb. Or Origami. I just have a question. Didn't you ever once doubt your sanity? Or think it was just an elaborate dream?"

I gave him a blank stare. "Should I have, Fluorescent?"

He snorted and said, "Well, I guess your family didn't take you to the ICU because they thought you were in a coma. Unfortunately, mine did. Did you remember anything, or did you take notes?"

"Notes," I answered, already rummaging in a pile of papers for one of the copies.

He grinned and sighed. "I wrote all over the cheap paper gown they gave me. I believe I filled an entire sleeve writing about you."

"I don't doubt that. I bet you filled the rest writing love poetry."

He blushed.

"Here, this is what I wrote," I explained, handing him the notebook.

"Wow, these are pretty detailed. By the way, why didn't you go insane? You're close enough as it is. I haven't been doing so well."

"I'm just crazy enough that I didn't go crazy because I believe I'll be with Matt again," I deadpanned.

He looked at me like I wasn't just on the brink of insanity and inquired, "What if it's just a dream? And it's only a coincidence that we've both had it, and saw each other?"

"Just a coincidence? Really, Bright? Besides, I know I'd never be able to imagine someone as amazing as Matt."

"I-I understand, sort of. But you couldn't have known him for very long, so how could you-"

"He let me look into his memories, unchanged, except for the parts about his death, which he altered slightly so it would fit my understanding of my role in Anthemoessa."

It was clear he was curious, but had deemed it too rude to ask, so I told him the basics.

"He's an American, born here. He had many sisters that he admired a lot. Claudia was his eldest sister, and the only one who escaped the house fire that nearly ended the Jeevas family."

I paused, and Light shook his head to signal that he didn't know anything of a Claudia Jeevas.

"She's probably dead by now anyway. Their house was actually more of a mansion, since they had eight kids and a lot of cash. Each of his siblings had their own room, but since Matt was the baby of the family, he got the nicest room, the one that faced the street. Obviously, his house was in a nice neighborhood, so every day he looked out past the boring gardens and other houses to the seemingly beautiful city, which was a long drive away. He always dreamed of going out there, so one day, one of his sisters took him. Maria, I think. He was absolutely devastated by the place. He was pretty sheltered his entire life, and seeing all that filth just horrified him. So he decided to help, and his sister told him the only way to do that would be to make lots of money and learn more. Matt studied like hell for years and years, went through law school, and graduated at the age of nineteen. And every time he visited home, he'd visit that bad section of town, just to remind himself. Here is where he edited. At first I believed that that day, which happened to be a Christmas reunion, he went out to the city while everybody else was cooking, and the house burned to a crisp, and he and Claudia, who was vacationing with her fiancé in Spain, were the only ones to live. Obviously, he didn't live, so he must have stayed at home."

"Well, that's-"

"But I don't know why he feels so much guilt. He couldn't have faked it, it was too strong... I want to ask him, help him, anything. I'm sure it's just his nature, right?"

"I actually can't-"

"I can't describe him to you, but just know that he's _good_. Just like L, in a way."

Light scoffed. "L is in no way a nice person."

I rolled my eyes and reminded, "He's honest. Nothing wrong with that. And he sent you back, at his own expense."

"It seems we're all brutally honest..."

"Right, Imagay."

"You look like a cheap prostitute in leather."

I slapped him on the back cheerfully and declared, "And you live up to your name with that hair straightener and seven types of shampoo!"

"If I had any doubt it was you, trust me, it's gone."

I beamed and said, "Now, you have to let me read your poetry."


	14. Chapter 14

I really am a lone wolf, when I think about it. I withdrew from the Mafia with enough cash to live out the rest of my life without having to work. So, I have an average apartment in an okay part of the city with nice stuff and nothing to do.

Light would be coming over soon so we could continue our discussion from yesterday. It was apparent that he wanted to stay the day before so the talking and theorizing could keep going, but he actually had a life to tend to. Sayu, who I later learned was his younger sister and helper, couldn't keep a slightly illegal clinic going by herself.

So, unsurprisingly, I rejected human company in favor of a chocolate bar and a pile of paper.

There was a quick rap at the door.

"Come in, Feathers. Door's not locked," I called, still leafing through notes.

"Can you stop with the nicknames?" he asked in an annoyed tone. He was fighting a smile, though. I knew the kid.

"It's a favorite hobby of mine, Flashlight. Very entertaining for the social outcast," I replied, without glancing up.

"Whatever, Mello the yellow cello-playing fellow. What have you come up with?"

I finally shut the notebook. "Do you want my theories, or a quick review?"

An eager "Theories!" was his final verdict.

"Okay, calm down. I'm assuming you have no idea how roles are assumed. So here's what I know. Every one of them there is dead, except for the visitors, or the dreamers, or us, in the beginning, at least."

"How do you kn-"

"When Near dragged me in, like I said, I believed I was one of them. So I know that all of the permanent ones are deceased. Continuing. Each of them picks a 'mirror', or one of us dreamers, to bring into the world to keep as friends, lovers, etc. Only, the dreamer dies slowly from starvation or thirst since his body is still here, and doesn't get any nutrition. One day here is eight days in Anthemoessa, so an average person can live for about eighty days before their body here dies. Then, I think his mind- his imagination, I guess- is absorbed by Anthemoessa. You remember the strange things that happened there, right?"

He nodded.

"Well, Near let me know this much. A person in Anthemoessa can use their mind to create things. The dreamers obviously aren't as skilled as the permanent residents, so they unconsciously alter the world slightly by their perception. The smarter or more creative, the more detailed the section of Anthemoessa they are in becomes. With me?"

He nodded, again.

"Right. I have no idea why the permanent residents are there. Maybe they're created by the world, and bits of them are pulled from already dead dreamers. But that's almost a paradox-"

Softly, Light said, "I have a question. Why would the residents snare dreamers if they know it will cost them them their lives? What benefit is there?"

I smiled grimly. "It gets very lonely there. When a dreamer comes, it's like the world is drenched in watercolors and life picks up a bit. Almost like a high from drugs, really. It takes some serious self-control to 'abstain', as they say."

My acquaintance pursed his lips, but nudged me on. "Keep going."

"As for the future, I have no idea about what to do. Like I was saying, I don't know how the permanent became permanent. All I can think of is what a lady called 'Misa' told me. She popped out of nowhere seconds before I woke up and told me to 'die while dreaming'."

"Maybe we have to die while dreaming to become one of them," he tossed out idly, staring out the window behind me.

I froze, considering what had to be an incredibly idiotic mistake on my part. "I- I never thought of that," I confessed, thinking.

It fit remarkably well with Matt's death. His house had been burned down, so it would have been very simple for him to be in a deep sleep while...

I swallowed at that unfortunate thought.

"You never considered it?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yeah... I think you might be right. Matt's house caught fire, so..."

"...it would have been easy for him to have been dreaming when he died. I see. But Mello, if we try, we have no guarantee of anything. Suppose you're wrong, and you just die? Or you don't dream, or-"

"Light, please. I have nothing but enough money to live for eighty more years. This isn't a question for me. It's for you."

Yagami studied the pattern of the hardwood floor with a blank expression.

"Do you think it would be worth a try at getting L to leave your family? Or would you prefer to stay here?"

"...I need time to think, Mello. I'll be back tomorrow. Sayu is expecting me. We have a bunch of patients coming in." He pushed his chair backwards, scraping the flooring and a bit of the wall.

For a few hours I sat in my seat and stared at the indention and the chalky powder that bloomed into the air and thought about Light, L, Matt, and how everything suddenly seemed like a way to die.


End file.
